Sherbert Lemon
by mascaret
Summary: Dumbledore...coil...shuffling. Somewhat irreverent.


A/N Thank you Maria for taking the time to check this over.  
  
Dumbledore had forgotten about him. Dumbledore had packed him off to the Dursley's and forgotten him entirely. It was as simple as that. There was no other possible explanation.  
  
Even the others, Hermione, Ron, the other Weasleys, Lupin, Moody, Tonks, they had all forgotten about him. None of the people who had seen him off to the Dursleys at the start of the school holiday had owled or stopped by to check on him in the week since. Harry would have thought that given his love of all things muggle, Mr. Weasley would have at least tried to telephone, or as Ron's dad usually said 'fellytone.'  
  
But Harry had heard not a word from any of them. It was as if they, much like Gilderoy Lockhart, had forgotten he had ever existed. Harry was beginning to think he might very well never leave the Dursley's house again when the doorbell rang.  
  
"Boy! Get down here! The crazy cat lady-"  
  
"Vernon, she can hear you!"  
  
"-er, one of our neighbors has some yard work for you to do!"  
  
Harry was in such a rush, he started down the stairs with his trainers only half on. He lost his footing, but managed to grab hold of the rail. Not that if he fell and broke his neck his aunt and uncle would really care. No doubt Dumbledore would be put out, but only because he would lose his weapon against Voldemort.  
  
Mrs. Figg took one look at him and tried to send him back up the stairs. "Wear one of your school uniforms. You'll look a sight neater."  
  
"No!" Aunt Petunia and Uncle Vernon shrieked in unison.  
  
Uncle Vernon tried to come up with an explanation. "You see, St. Brutus' doesn't allow students to wear their uniforms outside-"  
  
Giving up any pretense of being an ordinary muggle, Mrs. Figg interrupted. "Harry doesn't go to St. Brutus', he goes to Hogwarts." She turned to Harry. "The uniform is black?"  
  
Harry nodded and ran back up the stairs. He knew Mrs. Figg was a squib so of course she hadn't gone to Hogwarts for schooling. He could hear Uncle Vernon even from upstairs.  
  
"You – you know about – you're one of them! Get out! Out of my house!"  
  
Aunt Petunia panicked seeing him start to put the robes over his clothes after getting back down the stairs. "He can't wear that outside!"  
  
Mrs. Figg sighed. Harry was starting to wonder why she of all people had been sent for him and why she had so abruptly outed herself to his aunt and uncle. Looking at her, he realized her eyes were red as if she had been crying.  
  
"Just tuck it under your arm. You can put it on when you get there, but we need to hurry."  
  
Trying to keep up with Mrs. Figg as she walked, Harry couldn't help the feeling that something wasn't quite right. Last summer when he was moved to Grimmauld Place, there had been eight or nine people escorting him, plus Moody had mentioned something about a 'rearguard.' Traveling with just a squib for protection, Harry felt more than a little exposed.  
  
"Shouldn't we be worried about, you know, Death Eaters attacking?"  
  
Mrs. Figg shook her head. "No doubt they are too busy celebrating. We just need to worry about getting you to the portkey on time."  
  
"Celebrating what? Portkey to where?"  
  
They had gone down Magnolia Crescent, turned onto Magnolia Road and entered the play park. Mrs. Figg climbed onto the merry-go-round and beckoned him to do the same. "Quickly, before the portkey goes off without you. We are going to Hogwarts."  
  
"Hogwarts? Why did Professor Dumbledore have you come instead of one of the others?"  
  
"Dumbledore didn't send me. Minerva McGonagall told me to bring you..."  
  
Harry smiled, imagining how outraged Professor Dumbledore would be when he discovered that Professor McGonagall had gone against his wishes and had him removed from the Dursley's.  
  
"...She thought you would want to come pay your respects at Professor Dumbledore's memorial service."  
  
Harry's smile faded and his stomach lurched as the portkey went off.  
  
He stumbled as the portkey dropped him just outside the Great Hall. All of Hogwarts was draped in mourning colors. Following Mrs. Figg out to the lake, he passed group after group of mourners in black. Even the professors had forgone their usual robes for more muted shades. Only Snape had not worn special robes for the occasion. His usual robes were already black.  
  
In addition to a panicked looking Fudge, the Ministry had sent as representatives a full battalion of aurors in their dress uniforms. Alastor Moody was at the head of them in his faded old auror dress uniform. Harry saw an unusually ordinary looking Tonks standing towards the back.  
  
Professor McGonagall was at the edge of the lake. Looking at her, Harry wondered if she had always been that pale or if it was just the contrast of the black robes instead of her usual emerald green ones. He had always thought of her as solid and inflexible, but today she looked almost yielded. The people standing beside her seemed to be showing her a special deference, something a bit beyond what he would have expected, even if, as he suspected, she was the school's Headmistress now. Still, she seemed determined to keep herself together.  
  
It was Hagrid who was weeping openly while staring out at the lake.  
  
Resting at the edge of the water was a large wooden barge. Harry could make out the form of Professor Dumbledore lying in the center of a pyre.  
  
At a slight gesture from Professor McGonagall and without the aid of any rowers, the barge set off. Phoenix song was the only sound that could be heard as Fawkes flew in low circles around the barge as it leisurely floated away. While the ship and the phoenix gradually became smaller and smaller in the distance, Fawkes' song grew paradoxically louder. As the barge neared the center of the lake and the volume of the phoenix's song seemed about to truly become earsplitting, Fawkes swooped down to touch the barge. When he made contact with it, the phoenix burst into flames, igniting with him not only the pyre, but the entire barge.  
  
It took eight men to hold back Hagrid as he tried to throw himself into the lake after Professor Dumbledore.  
  
Harry was still struggling to deal with the loss of his godfather and now this. Remembering the way he had lashed out at Dumbledore during their last meeting in his office, Harry was filled with shame and regret. Bellatrix and Voldemort were the ones responsible for Sirius' death, not Dumbledore. Dumbledore had just been trying to make sure that Harry had at least some childhood. And instead of being grateful for it, Harry had thrown a tantrum worthy of Dudley.  
  
Remus Lupin approached and laid a comforting hand on Harry's shoulder. Watching the barge burn and with Lupin as his witness, Harry made an oath.  
  
"I will defeat Voldemort. Professor Dumbledore's death will not go unavenged."  
  
Lupin squeezed his shoulder. "Harry, Voldemort wasn't responsible for his death."  
  
That came as a great surprise, but Harry realized it shouldn't have. Dumbledore was over a hundred and fifty years old. That was a very long time to have lived. "Was it something sudden? He didn't seem sick or anything the last time I saw him."  
  
Lupin nodded. "Sudden, yes. Quite sudden."  
  
Watching the flames on the lake, Harry questioned him. "Was it...you know...painful?"  
  
His former professor took a moment to consider before answering truthfully. "Maybe some, but it all would have been over very quickly and I like to think he went the way he would have wanted to."  
  
"How did he...go?"  
  
Lupin gave another comforting squeeze of his shoulder. "He choked to death on a sherbet lemon."  
  
Harry turned to face his former professor. "Come again?"  
  
The older man wasn't looking in his direction anymore. "Ooh the elves are bringing out little cucumber sandwiches. I love those!" Lupin said, as he walked away. 


End file.
